


can barely stand on my feet

by laminy



Series: and the night followed day, and the story tellers say [4]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 01:50:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20219815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laminy/pseuds/laminy
Summary: Rami and Joe are out of town, and Ben is sick. In more pain than he's ever been in, he wants to handle it himself, and is worried that he'll just be a bother to Gwil. Thankfully, Gwil disagrees, and comes to the rescue.(takes place sometime afterthough i'm older but a year, isn't really time dependent, Gwil just has his own flat now)





	can barely stand on my feet

**Author's Note:**

> (warnings for all sorts of medical things like: hospitals, needles, bloodwork, vomiting, IVs, pain)

It had started immediately; the first thing Ben noticed in the morning was the pain in his stomach. He wasn’t sure what it was from, but otherwise he felt fine, so he just assumed that something he’d eaten the day before must not be agreeing with him. It didn’t bother him much; sure, it wasn't great, a constant dull ache, but he decided he’d just skip breakfast, and wait until later in the day when he felt better before eating. He did drink a couple glasses of water, though, and he could feel it almost cooling his stomach down. But it didn’t make the pain go away.

Nor did it fade throughout the day. He swung by Joe and Rami’s flat in the late morning, just to say hello, and goodbye. They were going with Nelly to Milton Keynes for the day, visiting Rami’s family. Afterward, he and Gwil had gone out for a walk, mostly just talking for a couple hours. They stopped into a small cafe, and Ben’s stomach twisted a bit, feeling sort of sour, and he realized that maybe he was a bit more sick than he thought. But he didn’t want to worry Gwil, so he just got a bottle of juice, while Gwil got a smoothie and a cinnamon roll.

They didn’t have plans for the evening, so after walking back towards Ben’s flat, they split up, and Gwil headed back to his own place. Ben felt mostly fine; even though he was still wondering what was wrong with his stomach, he assumed that it was just the flu, and would probably pass quickly.

But now, Ben’s not entirely sure that that’s the case. He glances at the clock. It’s not even 7:30 yet, but he can’t imagine staying up much longer than this, he’s in so much pain. He steps towards his drawer chest and then gasps loudly, hunching over, clutching at his stomach. He whimpers loudly and then tugs open a drawer. He takes his hand away from his stomach, swallowing hard as he starts to pull off his shirt, already damp with sweat. As he lifts his arms above his head, he whimpers again in pain. He drops his shirt on the floor and then looks at the t-shirts in the drawer, then pushes it closed, changing his mind. He can’t imagine pulling one over his head right now.

He slowly walks over to the windows, closing the curtains, then flicks off the light. He goes over to his bed, pushing the blankets back, climbing onto the mattress. He curls up on his side, and for a moment, he can breathe easily, the pain subsides, but then it shoots through his stomach again. He squeezes his eyes shut and then shifts onto his back, shifting his legs under the sheets, and once again, the pain lessens for a moment before the burn starts again. He gasps and then weakly pushes himself up, curling up onto his other side. 

Over and over again, for minutes on end, Ben shifts, trying to find any position that will ease the pain. Each time, for a second or two, he feels like he can breathe again, until the pain flares up, and he rolls over again. He wraps his arms around one of his pillows, burying his face in it, whimpering. He lifts his head to look at his alarm clock, seeing how little time has passed. He’ll never get to sleep tonight if the pain stays like this. He wants to cry, not just because it hurts so much, but because it’s so frustrating. He's scared and alone, and he just wants to feel better, _fuck_ why won't it feel better. He glances at the clock again, and gasps loudly, letting out a broken cry as the pain flares up again. Still, on the verge of tears, he can't imagine himself calling Gwil or Joe. He can handle this on his own.

He tries to stay in bed, shifting and rolling around over and over again, hoping that maybe if he just stays there in the dark he’ll make himself tired, but it doesn’t seem to be working. He shifts onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He lifts his hands to his face, pressing the heel of his palms against his eyes, trying to keep himself from crying. He gasps, pushing himself up. He hunches over, and the pain in his stomach just continues. He pulls his pillow onto his lap, wrapping his arms around it. He takes a few deep breaths, hoping that the pain will subside, but it doesn’t. He buries his face in the pillow, trying to muffle the sounds of his cries that he can no longer keep in.

Ben sits there, crying softly for a few minutes, before finally giving up, pushing his pillow and blankets off himself, climbing off the bed. He stumbles a bit, reaching out to catch himself on the wall. He sighs, and starts to slowly walk around his bedroom. He pushes open his bedroom door, and starts to slowly pace around, finding that moving helps ease the pain, even just a bit. He coughs once, then twice, then gags. He whimpers, as the pain flares up again. He keeps pacing around, taking deep breaths, trying to keep the nausea at bay. He can’t get sick, he hates getting sick. He’s always convinced that he’s going to die whenever he gets sick.

Ben goes to the kitchen, clutching at the counter, looking down at the sink. He takes a few deep breaths, thinking that maybe the pain has gone away. He gags again, and squeezes his eyes shut. He takes a deep breath, and then walks away from the counter, thinking that maybe curling up on the sofa might be alright. He makes it into the living room when his stomach twists. He groans and turns towards the bathroom, but he doesn’t make it in time before he’s sick, and he cries out as it hits the floor. He ignores the mess he’s made and quickly goes to the toilet, collapsing in front of it. He’s sick again, until his stomach is empty. He flushes the toilet and pushes himself back, breathing heavily. He looks over at the mess he’s made, and sniffles, eyes filling with tears. After a few moments, he pushes himself up, rinsing his mouth out in the sink, then grabs a tissue, blowing his nose. He looks at himself in the mirror, and groans, seeing that he got some of it in his hair. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, cleaning himself up. He looks down and carefully steps over the mess, and goes to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of cleaner, and a roll of paper towels. He frowns, tears springing to his eyes again. He feels like a bloody idiot, mortified, even though no one was around to see it. He gets down on his hands and knees, cleaning up as best as he can. The entire time, he’s in pain, but still, calling someone for help, it doesn't cross his mind. Not seriously, anyway. He throws the paper towels into the bin, then stands up, washing his hands.

Ben walks back into his bedroom, looking at the mess of his bedsheets, and sighs. They probably need to be washed, he thinks. He feels clammy, his forehead is soaked with sweat, but right now tidying up after himself is all he can think of. He reaches out, crying out in pain as he starts to tug at his sheets, and he has to pause to take a deep breath. He calms himself down, then starts tugging at them again. He whimpers, and then finally convinces himself to just give up. He can sleep on these sheets tonight, it's fine. There's a notification on his phone, lighting up the dark room, and he carefully sits down on the edge of his bed, and picks up his phone. He sighs again. Ben doesn’t get sick very often, but when he does, it tends to hit him pretty hard. In uni, he just tried to take care of himself. Since then, of _course_ Joe has tried to take care of him. Sometimes Ben manages to shake him off, but other times, Joe has weaselled his way into Ben’s flat and forces Ben to let him help. But Ben can’t call Joe this time; he’s certainly not going to ask him and Rami to come home just for him. He hates the idea that he needs someone to take care of him. He brings his thumb up to his mouth, starting to bite at the skin around his nail. He sniffles, unlocking his phone. He doesn’t want to call Gwil, he doesn’t want to depend on him, or bother him, but he knows that Gwil will be upset if he finds out that Ben was so sick and didn’t reach out to him. He doesn’t know what he expects Gwil to do, but he’s never been in so much pain in his life, and he doesn’t want to go through it alone. At least Gwil's voice might help.

Ben goes to his favourites and presses Gwil’s name, dialling his number. He groans softly as the pain flares up, and he starts tapping his foot nervously.

“Hello!” Gwil says cheerily, and Ben can’t help but smile.

“Hi,” he says softly, and then squeezes his eyes shut as he shifts a bit. 

“Are you alright?” Gwil asks quickly, his voice much more serious now, and Ben’s sort of impressed that Gwil can tell something’s wrong from just one word.

“No,” Ben says, shaking his head. "Not really."

“What’s wrong?” Gwil asks. “What’s happened?”

“I’m—” Ben makes a quiet noise, feeling dumb as he’s about to say it. He’s sick, who cares? He’s a grown man, he can take care of himself. He contemplates telling Gwil that no, everything is fine, but he decides to just tell him the truth. “I’m sick,” he says. “I, I’m in a lot of pain, actually.”

“What’s wrong?” Gwil asks again.

“I don’t know,” Ben says, and he can hear how pathetic he sounds. “It’s my stomach, I— it really hurts, Gwil.”

“I’ll be over in a few minutes,” Gwil says.

“I— no,” Ben says, “I— I don’t know why I called, really.” He sniffles, and then audibly groans as the pain flares up again.

“Ben, I’m on my way,” Gwil says, and Ben nods, wiping at his face.

“I’m sorry,” Ben says, and then whimpers.

“No, Ben, don’t worry,” Gwil says. “I’m on my way, alright, love? Just hold tight. Do you need me to bring you anything?” Ben doesn’t answer right away, and Gwil speaks a bit louder. “Ben? Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” Ben groans out, “it’s— yes, I’m here. It just hurts, I— I don’t know.”

“Ben,” Gwil says, “do you need to go A&E?”

“No, no,” Ben says, shaking his head. “No, it’s not an emergency.”

“Ben, what if it’s your appendix?” Gwil asks. “Or your gallbladder?”

“It’s not,” Ben whines. “It’s just— it’s the flu, it’s— I’m sick.”

“How badly does it hurt?” Gwil asks.

Ben laughs sadly. “Worse than anything I’ve ever felt.”

“Ben,” Gwil says, “come on. I’ll— when I get there, we’ll go to A&E.”

“They— it’s not an emergency,” Ben insists again.

“How long has it hurt for?” Gwil asks.

Ben sniffles. “I— all day,” he admits.

“_Ben_,” Gwil says, “love, I’m on my way. Where are you?”

“In my room,” Ben says.

“Can you lay down?” Gwil asks.

Ben shakes his head. “No, it hurts too much, I tried, I— oh god,” he mutters. “Gwil, I— it _hurts_.”

“What makes it hurt less?” Gwil asks.

Ben sniffles. “I— walking, sort of. I— I don’t know. But then I got sick, and—” He winces a bit, and then gags again. “Oh god,” he mutters.

“Have you had anything to drink?” Gwil asks. “If you’re sick, you could be dehydrated.”

“I, I don’t know,” Ben says. 

“Get something to drink, love,” Gwil says. “I’m on the way, alright?”

“It’ll just make me sick,” Ben whines, and then he feels embarrassed, that he’s acting like a child. “I’ll— try,” he says softly.

“Good lad,” Gwil says, and Ben feels his stomach twist again, but in a different way than before. He bites down on his lip, and smiles faintly. 

Ben pushes himself up, holding the phone to his ear, using his other hand to brace himself against the wall as he walks back out into the kitchen. “Where are you?” he asks quietly. “Are you walking?”

“A slow run,” Gwil says, and Ben laughs softly.

“Alright then,” Ben murmurs. He holds the phone up to his ear with his shoulder, and takes down a glass and turns on the tap, filling it. He takes a sip, then another, then sets the glass down. He presses down on his stomach, just above his belly button where it hurts the worst. He whimpers, and then gags. His phone clatters to the floor, and Ben gets sick in the sink.

Ben whines, turning on the tap to rinse it out. He slowly drops to the floor, picking up his phone, back pressed against the cabinets. “Gwil?” he asks. “Did you…”

“I did,” Gwil says, and Ben closes his eyes, embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly.

“It’s alright,” Gwil says. “I’ve heard worse.”

Ben gasps when the cramps get worse, and he shivers a bit. He feels cold and hot at the same time, and he remembers then that he’s not wearing a shirt, just his boxer-briefs. He wraps one of his arms around his stomach, and brings his knees to his chest, but that hurts too much and he reaches up to the counter, pulling himself up. He sighs, and bends over, finally finding a position that doesn’t hurt him that much.

That’s how Gwil finds Ben, minutes later, when he lets himself into Ben’s flat: hunched over at the waist, arms hanging down. “Jesus, Ben,” Gwil says, hurrying into the kitchen, resting his hands on Ben’s waist, trying to help him straighten up. 

“No, don’t,” Ben mutters, clutching at Gwil’s arms, the pain shooting up again.

“Here,” Gwil says, taking Ben’s phone from him, ending the call. He puts his own phone in his pocket and pulls Ben in, holding him close. “Hey, hey, let me look at you,” he says softly, reaching up to press his hand to Ben’s forehead. “You’re warm.”

“Mm-hmm,” Ben nods, “and cold.”

“And cold,” Gwil echoes. “Come on, let’s get you dressed.” He starts leading Ben to his bedroom, arm wrapped around his waist, taking most of Ben’s weight for him.

“Mmm,” Ben murmurs, burying his face in Gwil’s chest, clutching at his shirt.

“Let’s sit,” Gwil says, guiding Ben to his bed, helping him down.

Ben whimpers loudly as he sits, and shifts immediately, fingers digging into Gwil.

Gwil crouches in front of Ben, reaching up to push his hair back from his forehead.

“Oh god, don’t,” Ben mutters, reaching up to gently bat Gwil’s hand away. “I got sick in my hair.”

“That’s alright,” Gwil murmurs. He sighs and stands up, walking over to Ben’s drawer chest. He grabs a t-shirt and a zipped hoodie, and then shifts the clothes in his arms, pulling open another drawer, grabbing a pair of joggers. He turns back around and sets the clothes down next to Ben on the bed, and Ben looks at them pathetically. 

“I’m too warm,” he murmurs.

“I know,” Gwil says, “but A&E might be cold.”

“No, Gwil, I don’t want to,” Ben says. “They’ll— doctors have better things to do than deal with me.”

“They don’t,” Gwil says, and he grabs the joggers, crouching in front of Ben again, helping get his feet through them. “That’s what they’re there for.” He starts tugging the joggers up, and then wraps his arm around Ben’s waist. “Stand up,” he says, and Ben sighs, pushing himself up, then reaches down to pull them up the rest of the way.

Ben sits down again and then cries out in pain once more, stomach clenching. 

“I’m sorry,” Gwil says softly, and he picks up the t-shirt. “Can you get this on?” he asks. Ben looks at the t-shirt, and slowly lifts his arms, groaning softly. “Just quickly,” Gwil murmurs, tugging the shirt over Ben’s head, helping his arms through the sleeves. 

Ben sighs in relief as he lowers his arms, and clutches at his stomach again. “Gwil,” he murmurs, head falling forward to rest on Gwil’s shoulder. He gags a couple times, and twists away from him.

“Come on,” Gwil says, trying to quickly but carefully lead Ben out of the bedroom into the bathroom. He helps Ben sit down in front of the toilet, rubbing his back. “Get it out,” he says, “it’s alright.”

Ben gags a couple more times, but nothing comes out, and he sighs, resting his head on the toilet seat, even though he knows that’s probably not the best, healthiest idea. “I might be contagious,” he murmurs.

“Maybe,” Gwil agrees.

“Gwil,” Ben says, looking over at him, “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“That’s alright,” Gwil says, “I don’t mind.”

“I do,” Ben mutters, closing his eyes.

Gwil leans over, kissing the side of Ben’s neck, gently playing with his hair. “We should get going,” he says.

“No,” Ben whimpers, shaking his head. “I’m fine.”

“On a scale of one to ten,” Gwil says, “how much pain are you in?”

Ben smiles weakly. “Nine?” he says, opening his eyes.

“_Ben_,” Gwil says sternly, “we’re going.”

“I’m _fine_,” Ben whines.

“No, you’re not,” Gwil says. “Up we go, love, come on.” He stands, his hands on Ben’s waist, helping him up.

“I can’t,” Ben says. “How are we going to get there? I’ll— if we go on the tube like this—”

“We’ll get a taxi,” Gwil says.

Ben snorts. “And if I get sick?” he asks.

“Then I’ll pay them extra,” Gwil says. “Ben, nothing you say right now is going to make me _not_ take you to A&E. You’re sick.”

“I’m not a child,” Ben mutters.

“I’m not saying you are,” Gwil says, “but I’m worried, alright? Come on. For me. Please.” He gives him a gentle smile.

Ben sniffles, looking at Gwil, and then he finally nods, shoulders slumping a bit. “Al—alright,” he murmurs.

“Good,” Gwil says, “thank you.” He takes out his phone, still smiling at Ben. “I’ll get a car. Can you put your shoes on?”

Ben nods, and walks into his bedroom first, grabbing the hoodie that Gwil took out for him. He contemplates putting it on, since he has a bit of a chill, but he also knows that if he wears it, he’s going to be too hot in about a minute. He just clutches it to his chest, and the pain flares up again, and he pauses for a moment, trying to collect himself. He grabs his wallet, slipping it into his pocket, and walks back out into the flat, going to the door and slipping on his trainers. He can’t be bothered to tie them, so he just leans against the door, looking over at Gwil.

“Let’s go, love,” Gwil says, walking over to him, taking Ben’s hand. “They’re on the way.”

“Gwil?” Ben asks gently, and Gwil looks at him. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Gwil asks, opening the door, leading Ben out into the hallway.

“I shouldn’t have rang you,” Ben says. “I’m— I’m fine, really.”

“Ben,” Gwil says, helping Ben down the stairs, “I don’t mind you asking for help. What do you usually do when you’re sick?” he asks.

Ben sighs, wiping at his face. “I— well, Joe, I guess. He likes to take care of me.”

Gwil smiles. “That doesn’t surprise me,” he says. “And before that?” he asks gently.

Ben looks at Gwil, rolling his eyes, then groaning softly, clutching at his stomach. “Are you asking if Paul liked to take care of me?” he asks. “I think you know the answer to that.”

“I do,” Gwil says softly. He holds the door open for him, helping him step outside. “Though I always hope I’m wrong.”

Ben smiles weakly at him. “I know,” he says. “Sad to think how screwed up your boyfriend is.”

“Ben,” Gwil says, “that’s— that’s not true.”

“It’s alright,” Ben says, “I’m not offended.”

“Ben,” Gwil says again, “I— that’s not it at all.” He means to keep speaking, but then the car pulls up, and he changes his mind. “Come on,” he says, opening the door for Ben.

Ben groans, and lets out a pathetic, pained whimper as he climbs into the backseat. He curls up, head falling forward, trying to find a semi-comfortable position. He squeezes his eyes shut, taking a gasping breath, feeling Gwil settle in next to him. 

Gwil directs the driver to the nearest hospital, and then wraps his arm around Ben, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Just a few minutes,” he says softly, and Ben nods slowly.

“Okay,” Ben says softly, and he shifts again, biting down on his lip, head falling back onto Gwil’s shoulder, taking a deep breath. “Oh god,” he murmurs, pressing his hand to his stomach.

“Where does it hurt?” Gwil asks softly, putting his hand on top of Ben’s.

“Here,” Ben says, moving his hand over the top of his stomach, above his belly button.

“What’s it feel like?” Gwil asks.

Ben smiles at him. “Are we playing doctor?” he asks teasingly.

Gwil smiles back. “I’m just trying to help,” he says. “Maybe we’ll wait until you’re better for all that.”

“It feels like fire,” Ben says, shifting on the seat. “It won’t stop. I don’t know what’s wrong.” As if on cue, the pain shoots up through his stomach again, and he cries out.

“At least we’ll hope they give you a painkiller,” Gwil says, “but I want them to make sure it’s not anything serious.”

“It _feels_ serious,” Ben murmurs, and he lets his eyes drift closed, resting against Gwil. They’re quiet until they get to the hospital, and Gwil quickly pays before helping Ben out of the taxi, leading him up to the doors. They check in, Ben getting a bracelet with his name on it, and Gwil getting a visitor sticker. They’re directed to sit in a small waiting area, where a nurse will call them.

Ben sits down and groans, clutching at his stomach, hunching over. “Gwil, I can’t,” he grits out, squeezing his eyes shut in pain. “Oh god,” he mutters.

Gwil leans forward, rubbing one hand over Ben’s back, squeezing Ben’s hand with his other. “It’s okay, it’s alright,” he whispers, “shh shh, it’s alright, I’m here.”

“Uh-huh,” Ben nods, and he cries out again. He can’t sit still, but he’s almost in too much pain to move, so he starts uncomfortably shifting, whimpering in pain every so often. His stomach starts to twist again, and he gasps, sitting up a bit. “Gwil,” he says. “Oh, I think I’m going to be sick,” he murmurs.

“Come on,” Gwil says, helping him stand. They walk down the hallway together, and Gwil opens the door to the toilet, helping Ben inside, locking it behind them.

Ben gets down on his knees and rests over the toilet seat, taking a deep breath. 

“That’s it, love, it’s alright,” Gwil murmurs, and he crouches down beside him, resting his hand on his back. 

Ben gags a couple times, but nothing comes out. He sighs, and rests there for a few moments longer before finally pushing himself back up. He walks over to the sink, Gwil beside him, and washes his hands, then cups one of them under the water, bringing it up to take a sip.

“Are you thirsty?” Gwil asks. Ben nods. “You might be dehydrated,” he says. “Have a bit more before we go back out there.”

“Okay,” Ben murmurs, and he cups his hand a few more times, bringing the cool water up to his mouth.

Gwil grabs a piece of paper towel and dries off Ben’s face, smiling down at him. 

“What are you so happy about?” Ben asks, looking down as Gwil tosses the paper towel in the bin.

“I’m not,” Gwil says. “Just trying to make you feel better. Come on.”

They walk back down the hallway to the waiting area and sit down again, Ben holding his hoodie to his chest, trying to use it to comfort himself.

“Hardy!” a nurse announces after a few minutes, and Gwil helps Ben stand up, leading him into a small room where an elderly woman is sitting behind a desk. He helps him sit down in front of the desk, and then crouches beside him, looking up at him. “What’s the reason you’re here?” she asks.

“My stomach,” Ben says, looking up at her. “It’s— all day, since I woke up. It’s the worst pain. And now I’m sick. It won’t stop.”

She stands up and walks over to their side of the desk, and grabs a thermometer, quickly sticking in Ben’s ear. She grabs a blood pressure cuff and pushes up Ben’s sleeve, wrapping it around his arm. “Do you have any allergies to medication?” she asks.

“No,” Ben says, shaking his head.

She sits back down behind the desk, and types a few things. “Alright, there’s a registration desk just around the corner. Go there and they’ll tell you where to wait.”

“Come on,” Gwil says, helping Ben stand up. They walk around to the registration desk, and Gwil helps Ben sit down there as well.

It’s a much younger woman behind this desk, and she asks for his NHS number and his address. Ben answers, and then starts to gag. He grabs at the bin at his feet, and the woman stands up, hurrying to a cabinet behind her, then hands Ben a small plastic bin instead. “Do you want a tissue?” she asks.

“Yes, please,” Ben says. He looks at Gwil, a pathetic look on his face, sighing. “I’m sorry you have to see this,” he murmurs, gagging again.

“You’re acting like I’ve never seen a sick person before,” Gwil murmurs, and he smiles up at the nurse, taking the tissue from her. “I’m the youngest of four and I have nieces and nephews. Plus, you know, I’ve been sick a few times in my day.”

“It’s still embarrassing,” Ben mutters. He holds the plastic bin up to his mouth, and he feels ashamed, knowing that Gwil and the nurse are both watching him, but nothing comes out.

After a few moments, the nurse hands Ben a few pages printed off. “If you follow the arrows, go to the green area, and give them your chart. A nurse will speak to you shortly.”

Ben sighs, rolling his eyes a bit as Gwil helps him stand again, leaving the small plastic bin behind him on the chair. “How many bloody people do I have to see?” he murmurs. “I’d be better off at home.”

“Except at home you’re just going to be in pain, and be sick,” Gwil says. “At least here you might get some help.”

“I don’t _need_ it,” Ben mutters. He drops the papers off in a tray on the table, and then peers into the waiting room. There aren’t many people in there, but the idea of sitting, for any length of time anymore, it sounds awful. He especially doesn’t want strangers to see him in pain, or getting sick. He starts pacing back in forth in a small area, letting Gwil hold onto him as he goes. He watches nurses walk around, calling the names of other patients. Every time one appears, he hopes that they’re there for him. He sees other patients looking at him, pity on their faces as he stops to hunch over, crying out in pain, unable to stop moving, and he wants to turn and bury his face in Gwil’s chest, hiding away from them.

The nurses come and go again, calling other patients, and Ben starts to feel frustrated, and he looks around. He’s getting tired, and wants to sit again, but he can’t sit in the waiting room. He walks over to one of the washrooms, opening the door, and he immediately just sits down on the floor, curling up in a way that makes his body not hurt as much.

Gwil follows behind him, and sits down next to him, tugging Ben close to him. “Are you alright?” he asks softly.

“I hate this,” Ben says, and Gwil nods, pressing his lips to Ben’s forehead, despite how sweaty it is. “God, I hate it, it hurts _so much_, I just want to feel better, please.”

“I know,” Gwil says, “that’s why we’re here. They’ll help, love, I promise.”

Ben whimpers and sniffles, bringing his hoodie up to his face. His shoulders start to shake as he starts to cry, and Gwil just shushes him gently, holding him close, trying to comfort him. “I’ve never been this sick before,” he mutters, “I don’t know what to do.”

“There’s nothing to do,” Gwil says. “We’re here, they’ll help. That’s all; we just have to wait now.”

Pain shoots through Ben’s gut and he kicks out his leg, finding a bit of relief in the shift in position. “I feel so stupid,” he says.

“Why?” Gwil asks. “People get sick, Ben, that’s why they have hospitals.”

“I’m a grown man,” Ben says. “Can’t even take bloody care of myself—” he says, and he gasps at more pain.

Gwil kisses Ben’s temple, shushing him again. “That’s hard for you, I know.”

Ben groans. “This isn’t therapy time, Gwil, it feels like my stomach is on _fire_, and—” He lets out another cry, head falling forward.

“You don’t have to take care of yourself,” Gwil says softly. “Not all the time. That’s why I’m here.”

“I shouldn’t— I don’t _need_—” Ben whimpers. “Oh god, make it _stop_, bloody hell, why won’t they call my name?”

“Soon,” Gwil says, “they’re busy.”

Ben cries again, tears of frustration spilling down his cheeks. “I want to go home,” he whines, “I’m fine, let me just— let’s go home.”

“No,” Gwil says. “Now that we’re here, we’re going to stay. Even if this is just some bad stomach virus, I want to make sure it’s nothing worse.” He reaches up, wiping at Ben’s cheeks with his sleeve. “I’m worried about you, Ben.”

Ben snorts. “Why?” he asks.

Gwil frowns. “What do you mean, _why_?”

“Look at me, I’m a mess,” Ben says. “God, I’m 28 and need my boyfriend to take care of me when I’m sick.”

“That’s what boyfriends _do_,” Gwil says. “That’s why— Ben, I don’t care that you’re sick, this isn’t embarrassing for me. God, and you ring me up, and you sound like shit, to be honest, and you tell me you’ve been in pain _all day_. Ben, why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why not when we were together?”

Ben looks up at him, blinking a couple times, tears on his lashes. “I just didn’t want to be a bother,” he says softly. “You’ve— you’ve got better things to do, and—”

“Me?” Gwil asks. “Better things to do? That’s— we both know that’s a lie.”

Ben smiles weakly up at him, reaching up to gently cup Gwil’s face in his hand, feeling the scratch of his beard against his skin. “What were you doing?” he asks.

“Listening to a biology podcast,” Gwil says, and Ben laughs softly.

“What about?”

“Pando,” Gwil says.

Ben laughs again. “What the hell is Pando?” he asks.

“It’s a forest in America,” Gwil says, “of quaking aspens.”

“That’s not a real thing,” Ben says.

“It is,” Gwil says.

“_Quaking aspens_?” Ben asks.

Gwil smiles. “Yes, quaking aspens. Though technically, it’s not a forest. It’s a clonal colony.”

Ben sighs. “Gwil, I don’t know what that is,” he says.

“It means if you looked at it,” Gwil says, shifting a bit on the floor, “you’d think it was just a forest of trees. But actually, it’s just one tree. With a massive underground root system.”

Ben shifts, gasping a bit at the pain, and settles against him. He reaches down, taking Gwil’s hand, locking their fingers together. “So that’s the sort of thing you get up to when you’re on your own.”

Gwil smiles, nodding. “See? That's the sort of _better things_ you think I have to do. Though, I do think it’s quite interesting, actually.”

“I know,” Ben says softly. “I love that about you,” he murmurs, eyes starting to drift closed.

“Do you want me to tell you more?” Gwil asks, and Ben nods tiredly. “It’s 80,000 years old,” he says, “or so they think. It’s in Utah. It survives because the roots are all underground, so whenever there’s something like a wildfire, it kills off all of Pando’s competition, like conifers, but the root system survives to send up new stems. The stems are what you think are the trees. The trunks.”

“Hmm,” Ben murmurs, nodding. “How many stems are there?” he asks.

“Over 40,000,” Gwil says, and Ben smiles.

“That’s more than a few,” Ben says softly.

“It is,” Gwil agrees. He shifts, and pulls Ben a little closer, frowning when he gasps in pain. “Sorry,” he says.

“It’s alright,” Ben says. “How big is 40,000 stems?” he asks.

“43 hectares,” Gwil replies. “A bit bigger than St. James’s Park.”

“I see,” Ben says, nodding.

“It’s the heaviest organism on Earth," Gwil says. He smiles, reaching up to push a piece of sweaty hair back from Ben's forehead. "But you don’t care,” he says, chuckling softly.

“No, I do,” Ben says. “It’s— not maybe my idea of fun, but you care. And you make everything sound interesting. I’m imagining you telling a classroom full of students about it.”

“All of them, bored out of their mind,” Gwil says.

Ben shakes his head. “All of them, hanging on your every word because they love Professor Lee.” He sighs. “You answered as soon as I rang,” he says softly.

“Yes,” Gwil says.

“And you sounded so happy to hear from me,” Ben continues.

Gwil nods. “Of course I was.”

Ben smiles, shaking his head. “It’s not always _of course_,” he says. “P— some people wouldn’t answer, you know.”

“I know,” Gwil says. He kisses Ben’s temple, taking a deep breath. “But I always will.”

“Okay,” Ben nods, curling against Gwil, then he gasps out loudly like he’s been punched in the stomach. “Oh god,” he whimpers clutching at Gwil’s jacket.

“It’s alright, let it out,” Gwil says. “It’s alright, you’ll be alright.”

“Okay,” Ben says again, sniffling.

“Ben Hardy?” they hear being called out in the waiting room, and despite the pain he’s in, Ben’s on his feet almost immediately, opening the door. He sees a nurse, blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, looking around. “That’s me,” he says, lifting his hand.

“Follow me this way,” she says, leading Ben and Gwil into a small examination room. She sits down and then Ben follows suit, Gwil holding onto him the whole time to help him down. “Are you together?” she asks.

“Yes, he’s my boyfriend,” Ben says, glancing at Gwil.

“Alright, Ben, so can you tell me why you’re here?” she asks.

“My stomach,” Ben says. “It’s in so much pain. I— it really, really hurts, and it won’t stop.”

“When did it start?” she asks.

“When I woke up this morning,” Ben says, “so over 12 hours ago now.”

“On a scale of one to ten, one being no pain at all, ten being the worst pain you’ve ever felt, how much pain are you in right now?” she asks.

Ben smiles over at Gwil. “Uh, eight or nine,” he says. “It— and now I’m getting sick as well. But it’s mostly the pain. I— I just want the pain to stop.” His voice breaks, and he starts to cry again, rocking back and forth on the seat.

“Where is the pain?” she asks. Ben rubs his hand over his stomach, showing her. “Sort of all over there?” she asks. “Have you been vomiting?” she asks, and Ben nods, reaching up to wipe at his eyes. “Have you eaten anything today?” she asks.

Ben shakes his head. “No, it hurt too much for that.”

“And how much have you had to drink today?” she asks.

“I don’t know, really,” Ben says. “Uh, a few glasses of water. Some apple juice earlier.”

“Okay, I’m going to take some blood from you, alright?”

“Uh-huh,” Ben nods. He watches as she pulls off a strip of fabric, and wraps it around his upper arm, but he looks away after that, resting against Gwil, not wanting to see the needle.

“Just breathe in,” she says, “and then out, there we go.”

Ben feels the pinch and he digs his fingers into Gwil just a bit, and Gwil smiles down at him. 

“Have you taken anything for the pain?” she asks. Ben shakes his head. “Alright, I’m going to give you some paracetamol.”

“Okay,” Ben says.

“Okay, I’m going to take out the needle,” she says, and Ben looks down, “but I’m going to leave the tube in your arm, just in case you need an IV later. If you’re vomiting, it might be easier to give you the medication that way.” She flushes the tube of his blood, then reaches over and grabs a bottle, taking out three small pills, and hands them to Ben. She fills a small cup with water, and hands that to him as well. “Take that, and go back out into the waiting room, and when we’ve done your bloodwork a doctor will see you, alright?”

“Okay,” Ben says. He takes the pills, swallowing them down. Gwil helps him stand back up, leading him out of the examination room again. They peek back into the waiting room, and it’s emptied out a fair bit.

“Do you want to try to sit now?” Gwil asks, and Ben nods. “Maybe you should rest while we wait, come on.”

Ben glances at the clock as they walk past, and he sees it’s later than he thought it was, they’ve spent more time there already than he realized. He can't help but feel a bit guilty that Gwil's spent so much time tonight just taking care of him. Gwil helps him sit, then he takes a seat beside him, and Ben immediately rests his head against Gwil, closing his eyes.

“That’s right,” Gwil says softly, “just sleep for a bit. It’s alright.”

“Oh god,” Ben says, the pain immediately flaring up again, but he finds himself drifting off soon anyway; even though he’s in pain, his tiredness is starting to win out. He drifts in and out of sleep; he’ll open his eyes and look at the clock, seeing how much time has passed, usually about 20 minutes at a time, and then he closes his eyes again, snuggling further against Gwil. He wakes up slowly when he hears his name being called again, and Gwil gently shakes him.

“Come on, the doctor’s ready for you,” Gwil says, standing up first, then leaning down to help Ben up. They follow the nurse into another examination room, and they take a seat, waiting for the doctor to arrive as the nurse lays out a bedsheet on the bed in the corner, then covers the bed with paper before walking out of the room.

Ben starts rocking back and forth, shivering a bit, and Gwil takes the hoodie from him, putting it over his shoulders. 

“Ben?” the doctor asks, appearing at the examination room.

“Yes,” Ben says.

“I’m Doctor Agarwal,” she says, walking in. “I understand that you’re having quite a bit of stomach pain.”

Ben nods. “Ye— yes,” he says, voice shaky.

“You’re moving around a lot,” she says, observing him. “Are you alright?”

Ben smiles, nodding. “Just cold, mostly,” he says. “But it doesn’t hurt as much if I move.”

She nods. “I looked at your bloodwork,” she says, “and you do have a higher white blood cell count, so it looks as though your body is fighting off an infection. Is anyone else sick?”

Ben shakes his head. “No, I live alone, and my boyfriend—” he glances at Gwil.

“I’m fine,” Gwil says.

“Alright, can you hop up on the bed, please?” Doctor Agarwal asks, grabbing a pair of gloves from a box. “I’d like to examine your abdomen.”

“Oh, okay,” Ben says, and he pushes himself up, Gwil takes the hoodie from him, and he climbs up onto the bed, resting on his back.

“Is it alright if I look at your stomach?” she asks, and Ben looks over at Gwil, who gives him an encouraging nod.

“Yes, that’s alright,” Ben says. “Just— whatever you need to do, it’s alright.”

“Okay, I’m going to press down,” she says. “Does it hurt here?” she asks.

Ben shakes his head. “Not really, no.”

“Okay, what about over here?” she asks, moving her fingers. Ben shakes his head again. “Here?” She presses down right where it hurts the most, and Ben whimpers.

“Yes, there,” he says.

“And here?” she asks.

“Yes,” Ben says. She moves her fingers around a bit more, and Ben feels mortified when he feels his stomach twist again. “I’m going to be sick,” he says, starting to sit up.

“You’re nauseous?” she asks, stepping back, and Ben nods. 

There’s a bin on the floor, and Ben is immediately on the floor in front of it, hunched over it as his body shudders and he’s ill. In the back of his mind he feels bad that both Gwil and the doctor are watching him throw up, but he also knows that Doctor Agarwal has probably seen _far_ worse than that before. When he’s done, he just pushes the bin away a bit, sniffling.

“I’ll get you some water,” she says, and then Gwil helps him stand back up. A small cup of water is pressed into his hands, and Ben drinks it down. “We’re going to give you an IV, alright? I think you’re a bit dehydrated, and we’re also going to give you some painkillers and something to help the nausea.”

“Yes, thank you,” Ben says. 

Gwil guides him back to his chair, and they both watch as Doctor Agarwal prepares an IV for him. She hooks the bag up to the pole, and brings it over to him, using an alcohol swab to clean off the end of the tube on his arm.

“Do IVs hurt?” Ben asks softly, trying to keep his voice from nervously breaking.

“No, they don’t hurt,” she says, looking down at him. “You’ll probably feel it go in, and it might feel cold, but it won’t hurt.”

“Okay,” Ben says, and he settles against Gwil.

She hooks the IV up to him, and Ben looks up, watching it slowly start to drip down the tube. She goes and prepares another syringe, and inserts it in the second opening on the tube in his arm. “This is for the pain.” She injects the painkiller, and Ben watches it go into him. “I’m going to get you something to drink so you can take the pill.” She walks out of the examination room for a moment and comes back with a small yellow pill, and a tiny container of apple juice.

“Thank you,” Ben says, and Gwil opens the juice for him, as Ben puts the pill in his mouth.

Doctor Agarwal walks out of the room again and then comes back in, holding a blanket. “A nurse will be back to check on you once the IV is done, just sit until then.”

“Alright,” Ben says, swallowing down the rest of the juice. Gwil takes the container from him and throws it in the bin, and Ben closes his eyes, embarrassed as he remembers what else is in there.

“Try going back to sleep,” Gwil says softly, unfolding the blanket, spreading out over Ben’s lap, tucking it around him. “Just rest against me, alright?”

“Okay,” Ben says, and he closes his eyes. He can hear the bustle of the hospital around them, other patients having their names called, nurses discussing temperatures and heart rates. He drifts off for a bit, but he still feels half-awake. He groans softly, shifting against Gwil. “When you’re sick,” he says, voice a bit rough, and he can tell that Gwil’s surprised to hear him speak, “what are you like?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” Gwil asks.

Ben shifts again. “I mean, when I’m sick, I always think it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. What’s it going to be like when I take care of you?”

Gwil smiles, reaching to gently brush his fingers through Ben’s hair. “I’m absolutely terrible,” he says softly, and Ben chuckles. “My parents always made my brothers and sister go to school, but they let me stay home.”

“Oh, the baby of the family,” Ben says, smiling. “Spoiled you rotten.”

Gwil laughs softly. “When Roger and I—” He cuts himself off, gently clearing his throat.

Ben blinks, slowly opening his eyes, looking up at him. “When you and Roger?” he prompts.

Gwil smiles down at him thankfully. “The first time I was sick, after we started dating, he came over to my flat and I was all bundled up in my blankets, curled up on my bed. Felt like shit. And you know what?”

“What?” Ben asks.

“He laughed, right in my face,” Gwil says, and Ben grins. “Like an arsehole.”

“He took care of you though, I bet,” Ben says.

Gwil nods. “Oh, he did. Made me soup, made sure I drank plenty of water. Complained about it the whole time, though.”

“That sounds nice,” Ben murmurs.

“It was,” Gwil says. “But yes, don’t you worry. When I get sick, I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time taking care of me. God knows what getting sick is like for me now. I’ve missed out on a century of diseases. Whatever you’ve got could probably kill me.”

“Gwil!” Ben says, lifting his head up. “Don’t _say_ that.”

Gwil laughs. “I’m just teasing, love. Rami and I are up to date on all our vaccines now, and whatever you’ve got, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“I’d hate it if you caught it from me,” Ben says, looking up at his IV, seeing how close to empty the bag is.

“That’s the risk you take,” Gwil says. “Wouldn’t be much of a good boyfriend otherwise.”

“Hmm,” Ben murmurs, his eyes closing again. “I’m tired,” he says.

“I know,” Gwil says. “Keep resting. I think we’ll be done soon.”

“Okay,” Ben says, nodding slowly. It doesn’t feel like he’s fallen asleep, but the next thing he knows, Gwil is gently waking him up, and he lifts his head, feeling bleary. There’s a nurse standing in front of him.

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

“I’m alright,” Ben says softly. “Haven’t been sick in a bit.”

“Are you still in pain?” she asks.

Ben has to think on it, blinking his eyes a couple times, trying to wake up. “A bit,” he says. “But better than earlier.”

“Alright,” she says. “I’m going to take your IV out, and you’ll be free to go.” She unhooks the IV from the tube in his arm, and then gets a bandage and some gauze ready. “If the pain comes back and feels like it did today, or if it shifts to a different part of your abdomen, come back in tomorrow, and we’ll do an ultrasound.”

Ben nods. He looks away when he feels the pressure of the tube pulling out of his arm, and then the gauze and the bandage are pressed over it.

“Just hold that there for a minute or two,” she says, and Ben lifts his hand, pressing down on it.

“Thank you,” Gwil says, and he carefully takes the blanket off Ben’s lap, helping him stand. They walk out of the examination room together, and head back towards the entrance. Ben drops his fingers from his arm, and looks at the bandage. “Where should we go?” Gwil asks.

“Hmm?” Ben murmurs, looking over at him.

“Your flat, or mine?” Gwil asks.

“Oh,” Ben says. “Uh, whichever.” They step out into the chilly night, and Gwil leads Ben over to a taxi, helping him in the backseat. Ben smiles when he hears him give the driver Gwil’s address. “Are you sure?” he asks anyway. “Don’t want to infect your flat.”

“I’m fine,” Gwil assures him. “Besides, did the washing today, fresh sheets on the bed.”

“Hmm, that sounds alright,” Ben murmurs, thinking of the sweaty sheets on his bed. He settles against Gwil, realizing that his stomach does actually feel much better; whatever that painkiller was, it clearly worked.

They get out of the taxi at Gwil’s flat, and Gwil takes out his keys, letting them into the building. Gwil holds onto Ben as they walk up the stairs, and Ben rests against the door as Gwil opens the door. 

“I’m going to get you some water,” Gwil says, “just in case you get thirsty in the night.”

“Okay,” Ben says. He carefully shuffles into the bathroom, quickly peeing and washing his hands, and then heads into Gwil’s bedroom, where the glass is already on the nightstand and Gwil’s changing out of his clothes.

“Just get comfy,” Gwil says, “I’ll be right back.” He heads out of the bedroom and Ben looks down at what he’s wearing, not sure what he’s supposed to sleep in. The shirt was clean just a few hours ago, but he’s been sick in it since and sweat through it, so he pulls that off, and drops it on the floor. He walks over to Gwil’s drawer chest, and pulls the drawers open until he finds a t-shirt, taking it out and pulling it on, careful of the bandage on his arm. He wonders about having a shower, since he’s sweat so much and been so sick, but it’s too late for that. He just wants to get into bed. He pushes down his joggers, stepping out of them. He sits down on the bed, and he gasps a bit, the pain still there, just not as badly, and pushes at the blankets, climbing under. He’s a bit chilly, he thinks, but the bed will warm up soon enough once Gwil gets in with him. He snuggles under the blankets, trying to find a comfortable position.

A few minutes later, Gwil walks back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him and flicking off the light. “Alright,” he says, getting into bed. “You just rest however you need to,” he says, “whatever’s comfortable for you is fine by me.” 

“Okay,” Ben says, and he shifts, curling up on his side a bit, resting against Gwil.

“That’s good?” Gwil asks, and Ben nods, yawning. “Okay. Goodnight, Ben.”

“Goodnight,” Ben says. “Thank you for everything tonight,” he says, and Gwil nods.

“Of course, love,” Gwil says softly. “Any time. Wake me up if you need me, okay? And don’t be afraid to move around if your stomach hurts again.”

“Okay,” Ben says, nodding tiredly. He thinks to himself, not for the first time, how kind Gwil is to him. He’s more than forgiven Gwil for his words last year; he hasn’t forgotten them, but he also trusts that this is the real Gwil. The one who wants to take care of him. “I love you,” he says.

Gwil shifts, kissing his temple. “I love you too, Ben,” he says softly.

Ben smiles, and closes his eyes, settling against Gwil’s chest. He yawns loudly, and makes a quiet noise, but this time, it’s not one of pain.

\+ + + + +

Ben wakes up just a short few hours later, and when he looks at the clock, he groans in disappointment. He was certainly hoping, after everything he went through the day before, that he’d sleep in a bit later than this. He looks up at Gwil, who’s snoring softly. Ben doesn’t want to disturb him, but he really has to use the bathroom. He carefully moves away from him, and Gwil makes a quiet noise, shifting on the mattress, hand following after him. Ben pushes himself up, and the pain returns, just a bit, but it’s not that bad now. He stands up and hunches over a bit as he walks out to the bathroom.

When he comes back into the bedroom, Gwil’s wiping at his eyes, looking over at him. “Are you alright?” Gwil asks, pushing himself up a bit.

“Mm-hmm,” Ben nods, sitting down on the bed. He grunts softly, the pain flaring up for a second, and then he shifts, curling up alongside Gwil again. It takes him a few tries to get back into a comfortable position, and he contemplates apologizing to Gwil for it, but he knows Gwil won’t accept it anyway.

“You going back to sleep?” Gwil asks softly, and Ben nods, snuggling closer to him. “Good, it’s still early.”

Ben closes his eyes and thankfully drifts back to sleep. He wakes up again what he thinks is a few hours later, when this time Gwil is climbing out of bed. Ben groans a bit and Gwil glances back at him.

“Stay in bed,” he says softly, “you need it.”

Ben wants to protest, wants to get out of bed and follow Gwil out into the flat, but he’s back asleep almost immediately.

The third time Ben wakes up, he thinks he’s finally, actually awake, for good. He tries stretching out a bit but that just makes him whimper in pain and he curls back up. He rests there for a few minutes, trying to sort out how he feels. Not terrible. Compared to yesterday, a million times better. He pushes himself up and climbs out of bed, walking out into the flat.

He expects to see Gwil there, curled up on the sofa. What he doesn’t expect is for Rami to be sitting next to him, and Joe sitting on the ottoman in front of him.

“Ben!” Joe says immediately, standing up and throwing himself at him.

“Oh god,” Ben mutters, wincing a bit in pain.

“Joe!” Rami exclaims, at the same time Gwil says, “watch it!”

“Oh my god,” Joe says, immediately pulling back. “Shit buddy, I’m sorry. Are you okay? How are you?”

“What are you doing here?” Ben asks, glancing over Joe’s shoulder to Gwil.

“We got back a couple hours ago,” Joe says. “And when we texted, Gwil said what happened.”

“A couple hours— what time is it?” Ben asks.

“It’s the afternoon,” Rami says.

“Oh,” Ben says softly.

“Are you okay?” Joe asks. “You went to the ER?”

Ben nods. “Ye— yeah, Gwil took me.”

Joe steps back a bit, taking Ben in. “Oh shit, your arm, they took blood?”

Ben nods again. “And gave me an IV. I was dehydrated.”

“Oh, Ben,” Joe says softly. “Are you okay?” he asks again.

“Yeah,” Ben says. “I feel a lot better. They drugged me up, sent me home.” He smiles a bit, looking over at Rami. “How was MK?” he asks.

“Lovely,” Rami says.

Ben nods. “God— god, you two shouldn’t even be here, I’m going to be infecting the whole lot of you now.”

“I don’t care about that,” Joe says. “I just wanted to check on you. Why didn’t you text me?”

Ben shrugs. “I don’t— I don’t know,” he says. “I didn’t want to bother you. And—” he glances over at Gwil, “my boyfriend was here.”

Rami looks at Gwil, who’s practically beaming at Ben, and Rami starts to grin as well.

“Yeah?” Joe asks softly, and Ben nods. “So you don’t need me anymore, is that it?” he asks, smiling at him.

“No, it’s not like that,” Ben says, playfully pushing at Joe. “I still love you, Joe.”

“Okay,” Joe says, “as long as you never forget about me.”

“How could I?” Ben asks. “We’re together all the time.”

Joe grins. “Okay well, I’m going to run out and get you some crackers and Gatorade,” he says, and Ben opens his mouth to protest, “and then I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Ben says softly.

“I know,” Joe says. “I think it’s sweet.” He turns back to Rami and Gwil. “Babe, are you staying or coming with?” he asks.

Rami glances back and forth between Gwil and Ben, and then pushes himself up. “I’ll come with you,” he says.

“Alright!” Joe says. “We’ll be back. Don’t have too much fun without us.”

“Bye,” Rami says, waving at Ben.

“Bye,” Ben says, waving back. 

Joe and Rami slip out of the flat, and Ben walks over to the sofa, gingerly sitting down next to Gwil.

“Good afternoon,” Gwil murmurs, pulling Ben in towards him.

“Morning,” Ben says softly, closing his eyes.

“Feeling better?” Gwil asks.

Ben nods. “I am, yeah. Stomach still hurts a bit. But I’m not sick anymore.”

“Good,” Gwil says, kissing Ben’s head. 

Ben settles against Gwil, then shifts a bit, and takes a deep breath. “I need a shower,” he says.

Gwil chuckles a bit. “That probably wouldn’t hurt, no.”

Ben groans and pushes himself up, and he feels Gwil’s hand on his back, helping to guide him. He glances back, and Gwil gives him a quick smile. “I think I’ve got it,” he says softly, flicking on the lights in the bathroom.

Gwil shrugs. “Maybe,” he says, “but if you got sick in here and cracked your head, I’d never forgive myself.” He smiles at Ben, and then opens the cupboard doors on the wall to grab a couple fresh towels.

Ben sighs, resting against the sink, watching as Gwil puts the towels down, then reaches into the shower to turn on the water for him. He groans softly, pressing his hand to his stomach. “This— it can’t be a sex thing right now, Gwil,” he says, looking up at him. “I’m not sure my stomach could stand it.”

Gwil scoffs a bit, thinking that Ben’s joking, and then he looks at him, realizing that Ben was serious. “I— I know that,” he says. “Christ, you just spent the night in hospital.” He stands in front of Ben, carefully resting his hands on his waist, trying not to agitate the pain. “I just want to take care of you a bit, yeah?” He gives Ben a small smile. “If you don’t want me to, that’s one thing, but god no, I think shagging’s a bit off the table for the next few days. Alright?”

“Oh," Ben says, swallowing hard, then nodding. "Yeah, that's alright."

“Alright,” Gwil says, and he turns, sticking his hand under the water of the shower. He adjusts the temperature a bit, and then pulls off his shirt. “Need help?” he asks, reaching out to Ben.

Ben looks down at himself, and then nods. “Yes, please,” he says, and Gwil steps a bit closer, slipping his fingers under the hem of Ben’s shirt, starting to slowly tug it up.

“Let me know if it hurts too much,” Gwil says softly, and Ben nods, lifting his arms up. He gasps a bit at one point and Gwil stops, but Ben gives him the okay to continue. “Okay,” Gwil says softly, and then he starts pushing at the waistband of Ben’s boxer-briefs.

“I’ve got this,” Ben says, reaching out to stop Gwil’s hands.

“Oh, sure,” Gwil says, backing off. He pushes down his own boxers, waiting for Ben to slowly step out his, and then Gwil wraps his arm around Ben’s waist, steadying him as Ben carefully steps into the bathtub. Gwil shifts them so that Ben’s comfortably under the water, and he stands behind him, just in case Ben suddenly feels too weak to stand and needs Gwil to support him.

Ben groans softly, almost immediately feeling better as the hot water beats down on him, getting rid of the gross, sweaty, stale feeling he’d had. He takes a deep breath, and settles back against Gwil, letting him take just a bit of his weight.

“Good?” Gwil murmurs, carefully moving his arms around Ben’s waist.

“Mm-hmm,” Ben nods tiredly, closing his eyes. He shivers a bit when Gwil’s beard scratches against his neck, and he feels Gwil press a soft kiss there. It’s sweet, and feels a bit romantic, but he trusts what Gwil told him. “Brilliant,” he says softly.

“Let me just get the body wash,” Gwil says quietly, mostly to himself, and Ben smiles. He hears the soft _click_ of the bottle opening, and then he feels as Gwil starts to work it over his back. He closes his eyes, feeling a prickling of tears, and he feels stupid for it. “Let’s just turn you ‘round,” Gwil says, and Ben carefully shifts, letting the shower wash off the soap on his back, and Gwil starts rubbing it over his chest. Ben opens his eyes, and sniffles, and Gwil pauses his movements. “You alright?” he asks.

Ben nods jerkily, then sniffles again. “Yeah,” he says, “‘m fine.”

Gwil studies him for a bit longer, then smiles, leaning in to give him a quick kiss.

“I’m contagious,” Ben protests softly, pulling back a bit.

“If you are,” Gwil says, starting to wash him again, “I’m sure I’ve caught it already.”

“I don’t want you to get sick,” Ben says.

Gwil grins. “Why not?” he asks. “You don’t want to take care of me?”

Ben looks up at him for a moment, and then nods. “No, I— I do. Of course I do. I would.” He sighs and then shifts, leaning forward, wrapping his arms around Gwil’s neck, pulling him in. “Thank you,” he says, closing his eyes.

Gwil lifts his arms up, wrapping them around Ben. “It’s my pleasure, love,” he says softly. 

Ben smiles, snuggling a bit closer to him. He swallows hard, and takes a deep breath. He settles against him, and almost feels like he could fall asleep again, right there in Gwil’s arms, he feels so comfortable. He thinks they should probably just get out of the shower, and Ben should dry off and go back to bed, but he really doesn’t want to move. This is nice, he thinks. He could get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> • guess how I spent my weekend!  
• if you said, "sick/in the ER wishing that I had one of the BoRhap boys to take care of me," you'd be right!  
• I am fine, but then I was also like, well I can't leave my bed, let's just write this purely indulgent story.  
• I didn't really want to publish it, but it seemed too long to just keep on my computer.  
• and also I was like, well it's also kind of sweet to have Gwil take care of Ben, and Ben learn to let people in like that.  
• because Ben is so used to depending A: on himself, or B: Joe if he has to. now he has Gwil, who just wants to help!  
• and now they're soft BFs <3 and maybe Ben will be better about letting him in now, and asking for help when he needs it.  
• also, I have not been to a hospital in the UK, this is purely Canadian, and I hope you can look past the flaws/differences.


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